By David Fortier 

Come Sunday morning all the plans for our socially distanced Easter celebration will have come to pass—sauces simmered, salad prepped, presents wrapped—and all that will be left to do will be to gather, break bread and a bunch of other stuff, sitting at our socially distanced folding tables set up in the backyard trying to stay warm, and at the same time, being grateful that we could celebrate together. 

Of course, the gathering will be limited. We won’t be at my mother’s this year—the second time around. And yet, unlike last year, when Mary and I ate alone but Facetimed from the kitchen, things are better. We know it’s not quite time to let loose and pack 20 of us in my mother’s condo. Just a little longer. 

I made my annual pilgrimage to Barnes and Noble to pick up Easter books—as great uncle and now grandfather, the tradition has been to buy books for gifts (and yes, this extends to Christmas—I am that guy!). I think the older kids have simply resigned themselves to books for the holidays and birthdays. 

Maybe I lack imagination, but books and reading (and writing—I am an English teacher and writer) are “it”–the key to a more thoughtful, intentional existence, especially in these days of unbridled, unfettered (often fetid) stuff steaming continuously over our devices. We need safe spaces to cultivate our own thoughts, develop personal agency, combat disinformation and make a life. 

I can think about a million reasons reading books and writing makes sense. Here’s one. Early this week, I was sitting in my classroom prepping for a lesson and the principal stopped by, so I set aside the lesson to chat. During the course of our conversation, the principal noticed a poster on the classroom wall featuring a rapper. 

“Hey,” he said, “isn’t he getting sued by Nike?”  

To dress up my classroom, I clip entire pages from the New York Times, laminate them and tape them to the wall.  

Turns out the rapper was getting sued, but that wasn’t the point.

The point is this.

The principal stopped himself.  

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “On same day of the George Floyd trial and what’s happening at the Suez Canal—and a hundred other more important things, the rapper is the second thing on my news feed. How can that be?” 

We know how that can be. These news providers are in the business of news, and the algorithms that they use push curious and strange items like the one about the rapper to the top of our news feeds, so that the information we need gets nixed.  

There is more to it, but as I told my students, after relating that story, those algorithms are not going away, so we better learn to be aware of them and alter our behavior by slowing down, recognizing what it is that happening and act accordingly. The only way to do that is to slow down and think, question, think some more. 

Reading, on the page, does this best. Check out this article for an explanation. Writing does too. They require practice, mastery, questioning, synthesizing, and more of the same—and to be aware of what is happening in the world and how it affects us and how we affect what is happening.  

And it’s what we like to think we can help with here at TBE. We are just getting started—and although we are online, we still think we can help our readers think and question and even write about their concerns. We are taking things one step at a time. More later. 

“Come Sunday morning” is intended to be a weekly review, a recounting of the past week and an anticipation of week to come. Among its features will be reviews of old and new books, sharing of favorite podcasts, some family news, Bristol events and happenings and issues surrounding education, work and community journalism. He can be reached at dfortier@bristoledition.org.